Sundresses and Slips
by InkblotMind
Summary: Sometimes an old love just needs a new setting. And a change of clothes. Set around season 4. I took a few liberties, but tried to maintain the spirit of the show. Brock/Reba.
1. Chapter 1

"Reba!" Reba Hart cringed when she heard Barbara Jean's voice from her kitchen. "Reba, Reba, Reba! Are you ready?"

Reba rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen, "Can I ask one more time how I was talked into going on _vacation_ with you and _my ex-husband_?"

"Oh, Reba," Barbara Jean said with a condescending smile. "Stop whining. Of course you have to go. And it's not just me and Brock. Cheyenne and Van will be there too. It's so all of us adults can get away and relax without the kids."

"You mean a chance for me to be a fifth wheel," Reba muttered.

"Oh, come on," Barbara Jean wheedled. "It's not like you would have that much trouble getting a man if you wanted one. But you always dress in those jeans and long sleeve t-shirts, which is fine when you're home playing mom, but don't you think you could wear something a little...prettier?"

Reba gritted her teeth, "Barbara Jean, if you want me to get in your car, don't give me any advice!"

"Fine," Barbara Jean trilled, "I'll go ahead and round everybody else up; you grab your bag."

Reba sighed when Barbara Jean left. She knew that, as much as it infuriated her, Barbara Jean was right. The only problem was what Barbara Jean didn't know: Reba didn't want to find a new man, she was still very much in love with her ex-husband. She still cried herself to sleep some nights and it still hurt to see Brock and Barbara Jean together. The worst part was that she could swear Brock still loved her too. She knew he did what he thought was right when he married Barbara Jean. Their marriage was on the rocks and he cheated on her, only once--she knew that, and Barbara Jean got pregnant. Then everything happened so fast that it was hard to stop, and now they all felt locked into their roles.

Reba walked into her bedroom, catching sight of her open duffel bag and all the conservative clothes she had packed. She never dressed sexily, but she did have some more feminine clothes. After a moment's thought, Reba quickly pulled her less formfitting shirts and looser jeans out of her bag, replacing them with a few sundresses and close fitting shirts. She told herself she didn't remember that Brock loved her in sundresses while she grabbed a couple more out of the back of her closet.

Finally packed, Reba changed into a cream colored dress with a light floral print. She felt the hem of the dress brush the top of her knees and she smiled, walking downstairs. When she walked outside and tossed her bag in the back of the van, Reba heard a sharp intake of breath and turned around to find Brock staring at her with slightly darkened eyes. Reba's breath caught and her heart beat faster when she caught Brock's gaze. She was lost in memories of what used to happen when Brock gave her that look until Barbara Jean's voice pierced her reverie, "Oh Reba, you look so pretty!"

Reba rolled her eyes, "Just for you, Barbara Jean. Now let's go."

Everyone piled into the van, with Cheyenne sitting in the back with Barbara Jean, the two of them insisting that they needed "girl talk" time, and Van spreading across the middle seat to sleep, leaving Brock driving and Reba in the front, which suited them fine. Brock handed Reba the map and told her where they were going and she quickly settled into her old role of navigator, softly giving Brock directions. She thought about the few trips she'd been on with Brock and Barbara Jean and the way he'd never let Barbara Jean give him directions, insisting that she would just get them lost. Reba tried to ignore the warm feeling she got from Brock's acceptance of her directions and just turned the radio on, letting herself drift off to sleep once she felt Brock could find his way for a while.

Two hours into the drive, Reba woke to the feeling of Brock's hand on hers. She carefully opened her eyes, trying not to let anyone know she was awake. She could see the back of the car out of the corner of her eye, and she saw Cheyenne and Barbara Jean leaned against each other sleeping, while Van had moved only to shift positions. Reba felt Brock's hand shift on hers, moving to hold it, and she let her fingers curl around his, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep again with a slight smile on her face.

The next time Reba woke, Barbara Jean was awake and asking for a different radio station. Cheyenne chimed in to agree, and Van groaned. Reba felt Brock's hand slipping out of hers subtly and she knew he didn't think she was awake yet so she kept her eyes closed and let her hand passively open, noticing that Brock had shifted the arm rest so their linked hands couldn't be seen from the seats behind them. When Brock shifted the radio to a pop station and Barbara Jean started singing along, Reba made a show of waking up and cringing, "What moron decided on this music?"

Brock laughed softly, "BJ requested it, honey."

The whole car froze for a moment, replaying Brock's sentence in their minds. Cheyenne and Van looked at each other with wide eyes, both trying to avoid eye contact with Barbara Jean, who was looking back and forth between Reba and Brock. His tender tone wasn't too surprising; when they thought no one was listening, Brock and Reba were often gentle with each other, but the endearment and gentle tone together was too big of a slip to ignore. Reba thought quickly, trying to think of something to say before anyone called Brock on his lapse, because she didn't want to face a conversation about it, "Okay, Barbara Jean, answer me this: What kind of self-respecting adult woman knows the words to a Britney Spears song!"

Everyone laughed, breaking the tension, and Barbara Jean jumped in to defend herself, "I like it. It's got rhythm!" And with that she started to sing along, "Give me a siiiiiiiiign, hit me baby, one more time!"

Cheyenne joined in with the song, causing Reba to groan and hit her head on the window. Brock chuckled and turned the radio up, "What's the matter, Reba," he called, "Can't take the beat?"

Reba glared at Brock, "Shut up, you! I know you don't like this 'music' any more than I do!"

Reba caught sight of Barbara Jean behind her, pretending not to hear, but leaning forward to listen to Brock's answer. Reba guessed that Brock let Barbara Jean listen to whatever she wanted, so much so that she had no idea what Brock really liked. Reba thought back to the first months she dated Brock, the arguments they had over the radio. They finally learned that they both liked country and soft rock for road trips, but they got to know a lot about each other along the way. Reba realized that Brock and Barbara Jean didn't really know each other at all, and she wondered what kept their marriage going. Reba kind of regretted putting Brock on the spot, but she didn't say anything to change the subject; she wanted to hear his answer.

Brock shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Barbara Jean in the rearview mirror, "No, I don't. But BJ does." Brock's spoke quietly; he was hoping it wouldn't carry, but the falter in Barbara Jean's singing showed that it did.

Reba nodded, "Fair enough," and leaned back in her seat, staying silent until it was time to give Brock the next direction.


	2. Chapter 2

After several more hours, and more pop music than Reba ever wanted to hear in her entire lifetime, Brock finally turned into the hotel where they would be staying on the Gulf of Mexico. Reba breathed a sigh of relief after finding herself learning the words to _Genie in a Bottle_ and fighting the temptation to throttle Barbara Jean for picking such annoying music. She couldn't believe that Brock managed to stand it, but she knew it was easier for him because he noticed her irritation and it amused him. Reba leaped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop and opened the back, getting her duffel bag and walking into the hotel lobby, anxious to get into her room and lay down after the stress of riding in a closed car with Brock and Barbara Jean for so long.

"Reservation for Hart," Reba said with a tired smile to the desk attendant.

"Three rooms?" The attendant, who's name tag read Denise, asked.

"Yes, the rest of my party will be coming in shortly," Reba replied, catching sight of Brock unloading the van.

"Okay, here are your keys. I'll give you two to each room and let you pass them out, okay? They're labeled with the room numbers and check out is at 11 a.m. on Monday for you guys," Denise told her.

Reba and went outside to meet her family, catching them as they started to come inside. "I've got the room keys. Brock, here's 216 for you, Cheyenne, here's 217, and I'll take 218. I'm going to bed; I'll see you all in the morning. Let's meet at 8 o'clock and go out to breakfast, does that sound good?"

Everyone nodded and Barbara Jean started to turn around before lunging forward and grabbing Reba's room keys out of her hand, slipping one out of the holder before giving the other one back. "In case of emergency," she explained with a too-bright smile.

"What emergency could possibly cause you to need to enter my room?" Reba asked incredulously. But Barbara Jean just beamed and skipped away, leaving Reba shaking her head. She briefly met Brock's gaze and lifted an eyebrow, causing him to laugh and shake his head. Reba turned and went to her room, hoping that Barbara Jean would not follow.

Reba pulled her toiletry bag out of her duffel and walked into the bathroom, thinking about Brock and Barbara Jean as she washed her face. They seemed more like roommates than lovers, with Brock spending a lot of time at Reba's house and Barbara Jean operating in her own universe. Brock wasn't even that close to Henry, which had always seemed strange to Reba, considering how much Brock tried to be involved with their three children; Brock and Henry just never really bonded.

Reba splashed cold water on her face as she remembered the feeling of Brock's fingers curling around hers in the car. They occasionally touched each other, a tender hug or gentle hand on the arm. Reba didn't think he'd ever held her hand before, but she hadn't fallen asleep in front of him since the divorce, either. It was a strange feeling, touching him: it was soft like coming home, but she still felt the wildfire passion they had for each other.

A knock at her door startled Reba and she toweled her face off quickly before pulling it open, surprised to see Van standing outside. "Van? What's wrong; is it Cheyenne?"

"No, Mrs. H, Cheyenne's fine. It's you." Van replied seriously.

Reba was bewildered, but motioned Van to come in and sat with him at the small table in her room, "What's wrong with me?"

Van shifted uncomfortably, "You and Mr. H were holding hands in the car."

"Van, that's none of your business," Reba said gently, surprised that he had seen.

"Yes it is," Van exclaimed. "You guys still love each other, but you won't get back together because of Barbara Jean! Everybody thinks I'm so stupid, and sometimes I am, but I'm not a total moron, Mrs H. I know you; you've been like a mom to me, better than my mom, and you deserve to be happy."

Reba smiled and laid a gentle hand on Van's arm, trying to calm him down, "I am happy, Van."

Van blew out a frustrated breath and stood up, "But not like you could be! Listen, I heard you tell Barbara Jean that every marriage that can be saved should be. What if your marriage isn't over yet? Isn't your husband worth fighting for?"

"Brock's not my husband anymore, Van," Reba was starting to get angry and she stood up too.

"He should be," Van replied, "He's not in love with Barbara Jean. He told me one day when we were golfing. And she doesn't love him, not like that anyway, but neither of them know that you love him, so they just stay together because they're too lazy to separate. Just open the door, Mrs. H, just let him know he still has a choice."

"He shouldn't have a choice, Van!" Reba yelled, "He made his last choice when he got Barbara Jean pregnant!"

"He didn't get her pregnant!" Van clapped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what he said, and both he and Reba froze.

Finally Reba broke herself out of the shock enough to ask, "_What?_"

Van sighed, "He didn't get her pregnant, Reba. Henry's not his kid. He did sleep with her, once, right after you separated. She was already a couple weeks pregnant with another married man's kid, but he wouldn't leave his wife, so she told Brock the condom broke and it was his because she was desperate. She's always felt guilty, because she really does think you're her best friend, but she hasn't known how to go back. She got wasted after Henry's last birthday and told Cheyenne when she picked her up from the bar. She said that she wanted Brock to leave her and be happy with you again, because she couldn't think of a way to leave him without tellling the truth, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing you guys."

Reba was shocked and she sank down on the floor, her legs giving out from under her. "Why are you telling me this now," she whispered.

Van kneeled down and put his arms around Reba, pulling her into a hug, "Because I talked to Cheyenne about it tonight, and she's been talking to Barbara Jean. Cheyenne said that Barbara Jean is going to use this vacation to try to win Brock over, because she wants the financial security of a husband, and she doesn't think you love him anymore, and she wants to be happy, and maybe she and Mr. H could learn to love each other. This is your last chance to be with the love of your life, Reba, and Cheyenne and I want you to take it, because Mr. H might give up on waiting for a sign. We love you and figure this is the perfect opportunity. Cheyenne let me talk to you tonight, but she wants you to know that she supports you too. Now I'll let you get to bed, you need your beauty sleep to win back your man!" Van laughed and lifted Reba up by her arms, leading her over to her bed and tucking her in, kissing her forehead and smiling when she chuckled. "Good night, Mrs. H."

"Good night, Van," Reba said softly as she closed her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Eight hours later Reba shot up into a sitting position when she heard a pounding on her door. She opened her door to find Barbara Jean grinning madly, "Rise and shine, sleepy friend!"

Reba blinked, thinking about what Van had told her the night before. Despite Barbara Jean's awful deception, she had a hard time feeling any differently toward her. Brock had slept with her, and could have gotten her pregnant, and Reba had formed a sort of friendship with the goofy blonde. However, she did feel less guilty about flirting with Brock, "I'm up, now go away."

Barbara Jean laughed, "Meet us in the lobby in forty-five minutes."

Reba rushed through her morning routine, showering and doing her hair quickly, before taking some time to pick out an outfit and apply some soft makeup. She finally settled on a light blue sundress patterned with navy blue flowers and navy sandals. Reba slipped out of her room and downstairs into the lobby, getting there first and reading some of the brochures about the coastal area they were in.

"Reba?" Brock's voice was tender and Reba turned around to find him gazing at her with a combination of affection and attraction in his eyes. "You look...beautiful."

"Thank you, Brock," she replied. "I thought it was time."

Barbara Jean breezed into the lobby and smiled at Reba, "You look so pretty, Reba! I thought we'd go to the park after breakfast. They have canoes there, and I love to canoe!"

Cheyenne and Van walked in, hearing Barbara Jean's idea, "That sounds great, Barbara Jean," Cheyenne said. "Van and I love the water."

Barbara Jean beamed, not noticing the uneasy look on Brock's face. Reba subtly put a hand on his back, out of view of Barbara Jean, and rubbed soothingly. She remembered Brock's fear of the water and wondered how Barbara Jean could have been married to him for five years without learning of it. "I'm not sure that's a great idea, Barbara Jean," Reba said. "I'm not really dressed for canoeing."

"Then go change, we'll wait," Barbara Jean ordered with a smile.

Reba sighed and went back to her room, putting on a pair of jeans with trainers and a tighter v-neck tee shirt than usual and a formfitting green striped button-up shirt. She was glad Brock had seen her in the dress though, and wondered when she had decided to steal her husband back. Walking back into the lobby, Reba caught Van's eye and smiled slightly at the nod he gave her; the young man had become something of a son to Reba, and his support meant a lot of her.

"Ready?" Barbara Jean's voice was perky, and she chattered all the way to the restaurant and through the meal. The ride to the park was mostly silent, with Reba sitting next to Cheyenne and Van in the backseat and Barbara Jean sitting up front with Brock, making abortive attempts at conversation. Finally, they arrived at the park and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, getting out of the car quickly.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, taking off toward the lake.

"I don't know if I can do this," Brock murmured to Reba, hanging back.

"You can," Reba replied. "Besides, remember those summers in college when I was a lifeguard? If you start to drown I'll save you. Probably," she said with a chuckle.

"My hero," Brock drawled, heading for the lake.

"Mom," Cheyenne called, "Wait up a second."

Reba paused and looked at her oldest daughter, "What is it, darlin'?"

Cheyenne looked around to make sure Barbara Jean and Brock were out of earshot, "Van told me he talked to you last night. I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you that I love you and you deserve happiness. I like Barbara Jean, but what she did was wrong, and all three of you deserve to be with someone who loves you. She's young, she'll find someone else. And you and dad have loved each other for like, forever."

Reba smiled gently, "Thank you, sweetheart. Now let's go, your father gets nervous in the water, and I want to make sure Barbara Jean doesn't give him a panic attack."

Cheyenne smiled, "I have just the idea." Cheyenne ran ahead and caught Barbara Jean, "Will you come on the canoe with me and Van? We want to go really far out and mom and dad are wimps, so we can leave them in the shallow water," she said with a grin.

Barbara Jean laughed, "Great idea, see you later, guys!"

Brock turned to Reba, "Shall we?"

Reba scoffed, "_You_ want to go out on the water?"

"Sure," Brock smiled, "After all, you're here to save me."

Brock paid the attendant for a canoe and briefly held Reba's hand as he helped her in, meeting her eyes and allowing her to see the attraction reflected in them. Reba's breath caught and she quickly looked away, sitting down and staring at the water as Brock climbed in and picked up the paddles. Reba tried to ignore the desire to pull Brock to her and kiss him that she felt every time they touched, letting herself be lulled by the motion of the small boat.

Reba relaxed in the canoe, smiling softly at Brock as he paddled them out into the water. She was glad he was concentrating on the water, because she was grateful for the opportunity to observe him unnoticed. His unnaturally tan skin made her laugh, but his features were still handsome after all the years she'd known him. He'd also developed more muscles during his marriage to Barbara Jean, a fact that Reba appreciated as he propelled them without enlisting her help.

"Reba?" Brock's voice cut into her thoughts, "What are you thinking about?"

"You." Reba didn't offer any further information, simply closing her eyes and tipping her face back to enjoy the rare sun on her usually protected pale skin.

Brock stopped paddling and hooked the paddles in their holders, "Thank you."

Reba opened her eyes, "For thinking of you?"

"No," Brock smiled, "For trying to protect me from the water. You always have had my back. But thanks for thinking of me, too."


	4. Chapter 4

After canoeing Barbara Jean wanted to go out to dinner at a romantic restaurant with Brock, but Cheyenne jumped in quickly, saying that the five of them should spend time together, since that's what this trip was about. Barbara Jean agreed and so Reba found herself once again the first in the hotel lobby, dressed in an emerald green silk dress since Barbara Jean had insisted they go to the fancy restaurant anyway. Cheyenne had loaned her the dress and Reba was proud that she was able to wear her beautiful daughter's dress. Reba stood facing the hall this time; she wanted to see the expression on Brock's face when he saw her.

She didn't have to wait long. Only a few minutes after Reba, the other four adults walked into the lobby, and Barbara Jean squealed and told Reba she looked pretty. Cheyenne and Van agreed, but Reba hardly heard because she was too busy watching Brock, whose step had faltered when he saw her. Reba took a moment to appreciate Brock's well-cut charcoal suit while she watched Brock's eyes travel up and down her body, tracing its lines and curves before meeting her gaze with lust-darkened intensity. He always had liked to see her all dressed up. Reba felt her pulse start to race and she licked her lips involutarily and saw Brock mirror her action, causing her to step toward him.

Suddenly Reba felt Cheyenne grab her arm, pinning her mother with a warning look, "Come on mom, we have a reservation." Cheyenne directed Reba toward the van and muttered, "In public. Please try not to jump dad while Barbara Jean is actually _standing right in front of you_."

Reba flushed and looked at her daughter shamefully, "Sorry, honey. The moment got away from me."

"Just don't let it happen again," Cheyenne warned playfully as they reach the van.

"Don't let what happen again?" Barbara Jean poked her head out of the back of the van to ask.

Cheyenne faltered and Reba thought quickly, "Don't let myself get caught without a dress so I have to borrow one of Cheyenne's. She's very attached to her clothes, you know."

Barbara Jean laughed, "Yeah, she sure is. Take shotgun, Reba, Brock doesn't know where the restaurant is. I left directions on the seat."

Reba wondered at Barbara Jean's acceptance of Brock's trust in her navigational skills as she got into the front seat; sometimes even Barbara Jean treated them like they were still married. She picked up the directions and read them quickly before looking at Brock, catching him trying to look down her dress. Normally Reba would have brushed it off or hit him, but not tonight. Tonight Reba was trying to win him back. So she waited until he looked at her guiltily before giving him the naughty grin she knew he loved. "See something you like," she murmured quietly enough for her voice not to carry over the conversation in the back.

"Yeah," Brock replied huskily, "Yeah I do."

Reba smiled again and gave Brock the next direction, pleased at his reaction. She was surprised he was so honest, but thought it boded well. She only broke the comfortably charged silence between them to give directions the rest of the way, and made sure she was directly in front of Brock when they entered the restaurant. She hoped for and was glad to feel his warm hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the restaurant like he did when they were dating and married, like she was precious.

The matrie'd led them to a large circular table with five chairs and Reba sat down, pleasantly surprised when Brock sat on her right, subtly moving their chairs closer together. Cheyenne exchanged a glance with Van and they quickly moved to sit on either side of Brock and Reba, forcing Barbara Jean to sit between them. When Barbara Jean looked like she was going to protest Cheyenne quickly explained, "We want to make sure we all talk to each other and don't pair off," and Reba had to give her points for quick thinking. Barbara Jean nodded reluctantly and picked up her menu.

Reba used her left hand to open her menu and let her right hand fall under the tablecloth, her fingers ghosting over Brock's arm while her eyes stayed trained on her menu. Out of the corner of her eye Reba saw Brock jump a little and his eyes shoot to her face, but he quickly relaxed and moved his hand to capture hers, intertwining their fingers and resting their hands on his thigh. Reba rubbed small circles on Brock's hand with her thumb, remembering that that always turned him on. Brock shifted in his seat and Reba let her eyes meet his, seeing his intrigue and confusion.

"Have you decided what to get yet, Reba?" Barbara Jean's eyes were locked on Reba and Brock like she was trying to figure out if something strange was going on.

Reba glanced at the menu, "I'm thinking about trying the baked salmon with spicy salsa, I think I want something hot," she said, shifting her fingers and tracing her thumbnail teasingly over Brock's sensitive palm, making him spray the water he'd been sipping all over the table, including on Van and Barbara Jean, who made faces. Reba laughed and released his hand so he could clean up, "Something wrong, Brock?"

Brock flushed, "No. Nothing's wrong here, just went down the wrong pipe."

Barbara Jean glared, "The wrong pipe, huh?"

Brock nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when the waiter came to take their orders. "I'd like the tri-tip with garlic mashed potatoes and my wife would like the baked-," he started to motion to Reba before catching himself and lamely motioning to Barbara Jean, "-Excuse me." Brock stood and walked toward the restrooms.

Reba was shocked that he'd referred to her as his wife before stopping himself. They'd always had a tradition of him ordering for her, but he hadn't done it since the separation. She saw the equally shocked faces around the table and leaned to her left, dropping her voice to the barest whisper, "Van, go stop Brock from drowning himself in the sink."

"Right," Van said before raising his voice so the waiter could hear him. "I'll take the same, excuse me." And with that he stood and went after Brock, looking every inch the man he'd become.

Cheyenne smiled proudly, looking after her husband for a moment before turning her attention to the waiter, "I'd like the halibut please, with steamed asparagus. What about you, Barbara Jean?"

Barbara Jean nodded absently, "Whatever you're having. What the heck just happened?"

The waiter looked at Reba desperately, anxious to get away from their table, "For you, miss?"

Reba smiled and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet, knowing Brock would treat them to dinner, and pressing it into the waiter's hand. He looked new and a little stunned by the scene they'd made, "I'll take the baked salmon special, and that's for calling me miss. Also, if you can bring a round of beers and one ginger ale that would be great." Then Reba gave him her most charming smile and was glad to see him relax a little before hurrying away.

"Why a round, mom? You know I can't drink," Cheyenne questioned.

Reba smiled wryly, "I think your father's going to want two."

"And again," Barbara Jean broke in, "What the heck just happened?"

Reba rolled her eyes, "Nothing happened. Brock obviously forgot who was sitting next to him and made a mistake, and now he's embarassed as all get-out."

"A mistake?" Barbara Jean was not amused, "I was sitting right across from him and he started to order what you wanted. How could he have forgotten who was next to him? No, Reba, he called you his wife."

"Well," Reba said with a laugh, "It's better than if it had been Van!"

Barbara Jean glared, "You know as well as I do that it wouldn't have happened if it were Van. It happened because it was you."

"Barbara Jean," Reba sighed, "Brock and I were married for twenty years. Some things are just habit. The last time Brock and I were both this dressed up at a restaurant we were married, so he slipped back in time a little, that's all. It's not like you've never forgotten you were married. In fact, I saw you check 'single' on one of your silly product questionaires before fixing your mistake just last week."

"Fine," Barbara Jean relented, "But why was he so freaked out?"

"He just didn't want you to get the wrong idea, like you did," Cheyenne jumped in. "And he's fine; he's even coming back to the table. So hush, both of you."

A few seconds later Van and Brock returned and Brock glanced at Reba, "So, how much did you tip that waiter to stop hyperventilating?"

"Twenty bucks," the waiter said from behind him, chuckling as Brock jumped. "And she had me bring beer. Smart woman."

"That she is," Brock agreed with a smile.

The waiter disappeared again and everyone raised their bottles, "To family," Reba proposed.

"To family," everyone toasted.

Reba took a sip of her beer and set it down, watching out of the corner of her eye as Brock drank half his. She picked up the extra beer the waiter had put next to her and set it in front of Brock, ignoring both his grateful smile and Barbara Jean's raised eyebrows to turn to Cheyenne, "So how's your work going, honey?"

Cheyenne began to tell a story about a homeless man she'd made friends with, but Reba stopped listening when she felt Brock's hand on her leg. Reba glanced at Brock, but he looked completely absored in Cheyenne's story, so she just reached down and captured his fingers with hers, once again linking them and smiling slightly as Brock squeezed her hand gently before relaxing. Brock's fingers were warm on hers and Reba was content to stay like that until the waiter came back, delivering entrees and lifting an eyebrow as he saw Brock's hand draw back from Reba's. Reba smiled at him again and he glanced over at Barbara Jean, who was trying to teach Van to stick a spoon to his nose before winking and walking away. Reba smiled to herself and reached for her beer. It was proving to be an interesting night.


	5. Chapter 5

After dinner the drive back to the hotel was filled with animated conversation as the group discussed Van's new football contract and Brock's decision to golf for a living. The conversation bordered on being a debate, and ended with Brock and Reba yelling at each other about the importance of financial stability verus pursuing a dream. When Brock pulled into a parking space Barbara Jean, Van, and Cheyenne got out of the van quickly, heading for the safety of the hotel to avoid the fallout of Brock and Reba's argument.

"It's important for your family to be able to count on you to provide for them," Reba exclaimed, taking off her seatbelt to face Brock.

Brock took off his seatbelt as well, turning toward Reba. "It's important for me to do what makes me happy," he yelled back.

"And _golf_ is what makes you happy?!" Reba was incredulous.

"No," Brock cried, "But it helps me distract myself from the fact that I can't have what makes me happy!"

Reba raised her voice even more, "Yeah? What is it that's so damn important to you?"

Brock didn't answer, instead grabbing the back of Reba's head and pulling her to him for a passionate kiss. Reba was stunned for a moment, but quickly responded, opening her mouth to let her tongue dance with Brock's. They both moaned at the long-denied contact and Brock leaned over, pushing Reba up against the passenger side door and deepening the kiss even more. Reba ran her fingers through Brock's hair and tickled the roof of his mouth with her tongue, feeling a rush of heat when he moaned again. After a long moment Brock broke the kiss to gasp for air before latching his lips on Reba's neck, quickly finding her sweet spot.

"Oh Brock," Reba moaned, arching her back slightly.

"Reba," Brock breathed against her skin reverently, pausing long enough for Reba to regain some of her scattered senses.

"Brock, we can't," Reba said regretfully. "You're married. To Barbara Jean."

Brock quickly moved off her, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I forced you to, you're probably disgusted," he said, words tripping over each other as he tried to apologize.

"Don't," Reba said gently while she covered his mouth with her hand. "I want to, I do. But it's not the right time."

Brock nodded his understanding and kissed Reba's palm, smiling at the shiver he caused before she drew her hand away, "Soon."

Reba tried to stifle the hope his promise sparked in her, remembering that Brock had left her once. "In the meantime," she said, "I'm going upstairs to sleep," and she left Brock in the car to collect himself.

Reba let herself into her room and sat down on the bed, not moving for several minutes, replaying the kiss in her mind. She still felt warm from Brock's lips on hers, and his passion turned her on, but she tried to ignore the feeling. She finally stood up to take a long hot shower, hoping that no one would bother her that night.

Reba realized how vain that hope was when, just as she was laying down, she heard her door being opened. She wondered why she hadn't set the chain and pushed down the nagging thought that she'd hoped that Brock would come in. Reba sat up and turned on her light, taking in the sight of Barbara Jean coming toward her with an upset expression. "Well, Barbara Jean, what is it?"

Barbara Jean took a few breaths to calm herself enough to speak, "My husband is in love with you."

"_What?_" Out of all the things Reba could have expected to hear from Barbara Jean, that was probably the last.

"I was trying, well I thought maybe this vacation would be a way to, well, Brock and I," Barbara Jean floundered until Reba cut her off with a stern glare. "Brock and I haven't intimate in six months, and I thought that this vacation would be a way for us to, well, get intimate again. So I tried, as soon as he came in, to well, be intimate. And he was into it at first, more passionate than he's ever been with me," Barbara Jean saw Reba wince at this information, but ignored it. "And then he called out your name. _Twice._ He didn't even realize it until I slapped him, he was so busy imagining he was making love to you."

Reba sat stunned, unable to even make a joke. She fought between hope that Brock was still really in love with her and guilt over the part she may have played in the destruction of Barbara Jean's marriage that night. Barbara Jean was truly her best friend, even with the irritation that the woman always provoked in her, and she didn't want her to be hurt. "I, I don't know what to say. I'm sure it was an accident. We were married a long time, maybe he just slipped." Reba didn't realize she was practically repeating her words from dinner.

"Slipped," Barbara Jean repeated. "Yeah, maybe he just slipped. Has that ever happened to you, Reba? Have you ever slipped?"

"Since Brock and I got together I've never slept with anyone other than him. I am faithful to my husband," Reba said without thinking. "Was," she added quickly.

Barbara Jean's laugh had a slightly hysterical edge, "Was that another slip? Like in the car when he called you honey, or his wife in the restaurant? Why are you two always slipping if you're not in love with each other anymore? But that's a stupid question, isn't it? Because you are still in love with each other. You never stopped loving each other. Brock only married me because after I told him I was pregnant he wanted to do the right thing, and he never loved me as anything but the mother of his child, and eventually a friend. There's no passion between us, none of the sparks that are evident even in a single look between the two of you."

"Barbara Jean, what are you saying," Reba asked uneasily.

Barbara Jean sighed before replying, deflated and suddenly calm, "I'm saying that you're my best friend, Reba, and I know you still love Brock. I also know he loves you, and that you two deserve to be together. You would be if it wasn't for me, you would have worked it out. And I know that I deserve to find someone who loves me as much as you love each other. So I'm divorcing Brock." She saw Reba start to argue and held up a hand, "Not up for discussion. I'm not even angry, just shocked that Brock actually slipped this badly, and this many times in a row. I'm glad he did, though, because we could have gone on this way for several more years, all of us trapped and lonely."

"As much as I can't believe I'm saying this, you're my best friend," Reba said clearly, "And I don't want to lose you."

Barbara Jean squealed, "I knew it! Best friend, best friend, best friend!" Barbara Jean hugged Reba tightly, making Reba laugh a little and hug her back for the first time. "Don't worry, I'll still come over all the time, I can't take not seeing my best friend for long. And now, best friend, I'm going to go back to my room. I bet Brock will come in here as soon as I leave. I want you to keep him here tonight; he can sleep on the floor if you want, but let me sleep alone to gather myself. We'll be fine in the morning. We are all friends, after all."

Reba nodded distractedly, grabbing a robe and pulling it around herself. "Okay."

As soon as Barbara Jean was out the door, Reba fell back on her bed and sighed heavily, reeling from the last few moments. She breathed deeply for a moment and smiled when she heard a soft knock on her door, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. She got up and opened the door, taking in the pained face of her ex-husband and wordlessly taking his hand, leading him to her bed. Reba sat against the headboard and opened her arms. Brock sat beside her and leaned his head on her chest, holding tightly to her waist as her arms went around him. They sat in silence for several minutes before Brock spoke, "I love you."

"Oh Brock," Reba murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

"I know Barbara Jean told you everything, so you can't be surprised," Brock explained. "She's right. I never stopped loving you, and I don't think I ever wanted to. I never even tried to let you go."

Reba sat quietly for a moment, just relishing the closeness. Finally she spoke, "I love you, too."

Brock pulled Reba closer and shifted their bodies so they were under the covers curled up together. They laid like that in silence as the night passed by until they finally drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.


End file.
